In your arms
by Sarlyne
Summary: Watson's POV. Holmes is back from death, but Mary died while he was away. So it's still hard for Watson to be happy, since the other beloved person had really died.  But luckily friendship is there to heal the wounds.


**Summary: **It's still hard for John Watson to live on as normal, since his beloved Mary died. But what are friends else for if not to comfort?

2009!"Sherlock Holmes"

**Warning:** Unbeta'd.

Note: Please note that while Holmes was thought dead (Reichenbach Falls), Mary _really_ died ("The Adventure of the Empty House").

I doubt that Watson (especially 2009!Watson) would be still so emotional about it as I described it, but I thought it would be interesting to write about ; )

The Love-Friendship dialogue at the beginning is a saying without author I've read somewhere.

* * *

><p><em>"What do you exist for?", asks the Love the Friendship.<em>

_"I", answers the Friendship. "I dry the tears that you cause."_

Heavy raindrops hit since days on the roof tops of London, accompanied by a grey mass of clouds and a cold autumn wind blowing through the streets. On my windows, too, the water run down, like branches of a big old tree.

"Doctor?" In front of the window drove a coach over the bumpy street, a dog jerked heartbreaking.

"Doctor Watson?" Mr Hastings' nervous voice brought me back from my depressed thoughts and I remarked that the syringe, with which I had vaccinated, stuck since almost three minutes in his body.

"I'm sorry", I mumbled and removed the needle of his arm. "So, finished."

"Are you alright?", asked the advocat worried, but glad that I hadn't injured him in any bigger ways. I tried my best to behave normal and told: "Yes. Yes, everything is alright. It' only the weather." A bad excuse for somebody who had lived his whole life in this city.

When my patient left I remarked that he was still worried.

I went back to my working room and remarked that my wet jacket still laid over a chair; a small puddle under it on my beloved carpet. On the table still stood different empty cups of tea I had drunk today, my books and papers and unanswered letters-several from Holmes- laid untidy all over it. It was early afternoon and for some reason I hadn't managed yet to clean everything up.

For some reason? No, my untidiness and the lack of sleep of the last night had barely to do with the weather. My eyes caught the calendar on the desk. I looked at it and after a few moments I became dizzy and had to hold myself at the chair to not to fall. I felt dizzy and tired and breathing became hard. I didn't want to think about it. I needed some fresh air, now!

Without thinking about what I did, I took my jacket, rushed out of the house onto the street, in the rainy day.

The cold air outside was harsh, but I didn't care. Further I was happy for something that was nasty enough to keep me off my sad thoughts. I don't know how long or where I walked, maybe for hours, without any direction in mind. Only two places in the whole city I didn't want to be- my surgery and my house. Since last year both seemed too empty and big to me, although we had put all our effort in them to make it comfortable.

We...

Now there was only me. I remarked that my thoughts were trailing off again and I immediately looked for something that would catch my eyes and give me new ideas. When I recognized I was standing right in front of the cemetery, my heart felt like falling down until the centre of earth. My whole body screamed for turning around and go, but my legs wouldn't move. Like banned I starred at the metal fence, shiny of the rain. With a deep breath my hand laid down on the handle and I moved in.

I was the only visitor, no one else would come here during such a heavy rain; my shoes already were dirty of the mud and wet earth, although I had only went ten metres on the way. The tombstone I was looking for laid on one of the middle places, white that I recognized it from far away. My heart became heavier with every step, the lump inside my throat bigger and I tried my best to hold myself together and not to collapse, but I wasn't sure if I could manage it.

When I stood at her grave I saw that somebody had laid a bunch of flowers on it; the flowers I had laid down weeks ago, when I had been here the last time, were already brown. I didn't like to come here often, what made me feel guilty. The blue colour reminded me of her beautiful eyes and mine became hot. Quickly I rushed with my palm over them, but I already felt water that didn't come from the rain. Through an unclear view I looked at the grave, where my beloved Mary was buried. My wife, my love, my friend and all my luck. I saw her pretty face right in front of me, her smile and those big blue eyes that had caught my attention right from the very first moment on we had met. The thought of her lying in the dark earth was unbearable for me and so I looked up to the sky, feeling the rain running over my face. At the same time I felt ashamed I wasn't able to think of something I could say. She couldn't hear me, of course, but it just wasn't right to stand at a beloved person's grave and say nothing.

„I hope you aren't cold down there", I whispered with stifling voice. Then I run away.

Again I didn't know where my feet would take me, but latest when I leaned- heavily out of breath and with tear wet face, but not crying loud- against the massive wooden door in the Baker Street, and heard the well-known footsteps, I recognized it.

„Watson, I already wondered where you are! I wrote you several letters today, but you didn't-

How for heavens sake do you look like?" A man with dark hair and an unshaved face with grey eyes had opened the door and looked quite surprised, what didn't happen too often. In one hand he hold a pipe.

Unable to say something I wanted to step inside, but my feet struggled and I felt against Holmes, who caught me without to fall.

„Oh, my!", he said surprised. „What happened to you?"

Without answering I buried my wet face deeper in his shoulder, my hands clung to his shirt. I sobbed. And finally I could cry, really cry. Although I'm a doctor I have never been aware of how many water could contain a human body. The tears that wet my friend's clothes and skin under it wouldn't stop while I clung to him like a little child.

"Oh, my", he mumbled again. "Oh my, oh my, oh my..." Somehow he managed to close the door and rapped gently on my back. "It's alright. It's alright, Watson." When Holmes tried to take me to the living room, I struggled again and- since I still hold him- we both felt on the ground. With a sigh Holmes recognized I was too exhausted and desperate to do anything and he didn't try a second time to take me somewhere, only brought himself into a more comfortable position; so he sat on the carpet, leaning against the wall with an adult man laying half on him, burying his face in his chest.

The warmth of a human body was comfortable and although I would have been happy with anybody, I was glad that it was him. Holmes didn't complain or anything. With an incredible patience he waited until I had cried all my tears out, and my breath had come to an almost normal point again.

But until this point it took long- I don't know how long, I barely can remember anything. I only knew I didn't want to ever stand up again, to just lay there with my best friend, the last one left I really cared about and the only person who could maybe help me. Holmes was very silent and I think he was shocked to see me in this condition; normally he was an elephant on human emotions.

When Mary had died he hadn't been here and it was only two months since he had come back from "death"; those two deaths had been the worst that ever happened to me and I still wasn't over it, although I had never been happier-only on my marriage- when Holmes survived. To say, my broken heart was still not healed and it wouldn't so fast. But nonetheless Holmes accepted my confusion, sat there with me, stroked through my wet hair and over my back.

"It's alright", I heard his voice and his lips brushed against my hair when he hugged me. I nodded and more tears run over my face. Some minutes later I felt asleep.

When I woke up I found myself lying on the couch, covered in several warm blankets. I opened my eyes and saw the old, homey living room with a fire burning in the fireplace. Somewhere behind me I heard the clatter of cups; Holmes was probably making tea. I stayed in my lying position and remarked that I was much calmer now. The tears on my face had dried, my heart was beating normal again, but however I still felt exhausted, but better.

It had been good to let it all out, I hadn't really done this since Mary died. On the other side I felt embarrassed that I had so less self-control and that Holmes had seen me like this.

"Ah, you're awake!" Suddenly Holmes was kneeling in front of me and I flinched in surprise. "Better now?" His dark eyes watched me worried and I nodded silent. He hold a cup of hot tea out to me. "Drink this! Best medicine, trust me." I didn't know what he meant, but took the cup and, sitting up, drank. One second later I spied it out.

"Oh, Holmes! What the hell is this?" It looked like Earl Grey, but had the strong smell of ginger. And it tasted as if he had not only put 200g of it in it, but also as if it contained fish soup, oranges, carrots and cod-liver oil. Horrible.

"Hey, the carpet!", he complained. But I saw the very corner of his lips twitch. "But at least you're full there now, aren't you?"

He was right, but nonetheless I put the cup on the next table, as far as possible away from me. I rushed with my hands over my face, through my hair, sighing. Yes, I was awake but the memories of the last hours came back. Holmes didn't say anything, kind enough to wait for me to say something, now that I was again myself. The flames of the fire threw flickering shadows on the carpet.

"She is dead, Holmes", I said. Holmes' expression changed into something like pity. "One year today. One year ago she died."

"I know and I'm sorry for it", my friend answered. "I liked her, she had a charming character."

"Liar! You never found women interesting", I growled.

"Mh, I didn't say I was interested in her, I said she was likeable. These are two pair of shoes!"

His attempts to be funny didn't really work; at the moment I didn't feel like laughing, but it was good to speak with somebody about it. To speak with Holmes about it. I had told him that Mary died short after he had come back, but only once, since I tried to think as less as possible about it; not only because Mary had been my one and only love.

"I let her die."

"Pardon?"

I took a deep breath and continued: "I let her die. I am a doctor, but I wasn't able to help my own wife, although I was more with her than with anybody else. I couldn't help her, I-" A wet curtain covered my eyes and angry I wiped it away. Holmes snorted and I looked up.

"Fool!", he growled. Perplex I was unable to say something. I poured out my heart to him and he called me a fool? My best friend?

"What could you have done? The fact you're her husband doesn't mean you can save her."

"I promised it!", I shouted angrily, finding my strength back. "I promised her the day we got married!"

"And? If everyone could stick to his promises the world would look very different. See, Watson", he added sighing. "You mustn't to blame yourself. Especially because you are a doctor- we both know how often a life can't be saved. But it's not your fault, I am sure you did everything you could for her."

"It wasn't enough."

"Oh, damn it!" Holmes shouted. "You really want to be blamed, don't you? Did Mary blame you?"

"No, but only because she loved me!"

"Did you love her?"

"Sure I did!"

"Then you would you have done something that would hurt her?"

"Of course not!"

"Fine! So what is your problem?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Holmes was right. It wasn't my fault, but it felt better to blame somebody, even if it was me, than to accept it had been destiny. I flushed and played with an edge of the blanket.

"I'm sorry", I mumbled. "I didn't want to shout at you."

"Neither I wanted."

Surprised I looked up. Did he just apologize to me? Although he had been right?

"It is very human to blame oneself. I've seen this in many cases, Watson. Life is something so precious, but some people seem to like it only when they make it harder for themselves." Holmes sat down beneath me on the coach. "Don't think Mary would like it if you drive yourself crazy, eh?" He rubbed his hand gently over my back.

"Probably not", I had to agree. Like before his near made me calm down and feel comfortable. A feeling I had only had when I had been with Mary.

"See, if you cannot accept it, at least you have to endure it."

"Easy to say for you. Everything in the house reminds me of her.

I don't want to forget her!", I added quick, when Holmes raised an eyebrow. "But the house is so big and empty now and it's just too much. I don't need all this."

Holmes stayed silent, but I saw that his mind was running. Me too felt in silence.

"Your room is still free."

I looked up. Holmes watched the flames, his face concentrated as if it was hard for him to speak. "If... you want to move out, here is still some space." He remarked I was starring at him and blushed. "Only if you want to, of course. After all, it is your house as it is mine. I just have to clean a bit up... put some things in it", he mumbled under his (imaginary) beard. Seeing him like this, trying to cheer me up, showing he actually cared for me-although he hated to show this kind of emotions-, made my heart infinitely lighter and a small smile appeared on my lips. Although he had driven me crazy so many times, Holmes was my friend after all, my best.

"I won't disturb you?", I asked. "You didn't already become accustomed to the loneliness?"

"Nah, I don't care if I am alone or if there is someone who knows when he has to speak and when he has to be silent."

"I would accompany you on your cases again", I reminded him. "Sure I wouldn't hinder you?"

"Oh, you improved your skills a bit since I first met you. You aren't incredibly intelligent, but sometimes quite helpful."

"You know I will open the window and clean up, if you smoked too much and didn't tidy up. And I'll complain about you playing violin at 3 o'clock in the morning! Can you stand it?"

"As if I cared about what you think of my playing~", he muttered.

"You missed me, didn't you?"

"Pah!"

His clumsy way to express his feelings touched my at the very corner of my heart. I couldn't help myself, I loved him for this.

"Then", I said. "I think you have no other choice then to share your house with me again."

"I'll manage it somehow", Holmes answered, but I was sure to see a smile on his face. "When do you want to move in?"

"As soon as possible."

Without looking at me, he stood up.

"I'll go and tell Mrs Hudson. She will be very pleased to welcome you after all the time."

I smiled. Holmes was already at the door, when he stopped and turned around.

"Only one condition!" He paused. "Promise me you stop blaming yourself for Mary's death!"

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Promised."

"Then it's alright."

Yes, I would try to live on. There was no need to spend the rest of my life in depression or sorrow. I still had my life and somebody who cared for me. My lips twitched. Like in old times- adventure was waiting and I realized I had missed the sleepless nights and my old room in the Baker Street.

When Holmes came back I was still sitting on the couch.

"Everything alright?", he asked.

I had remembered something that wouldn't get out of my mind and was my biggest fear now.

"I lost Mary", I answered.

"Hey! You just promised me you wouldn't get like before again!", Holmes reminded me angry, grabbing me at the shoulder.

"Holmes?"

"Yes?"

I looked up, right into his eyes. "Will you leave me, too?"

Stunned he looked back, his mouth opened in surprise. He didn't say anything, but his hand knot on my shoulder. Then:

"I won't leave you." Holmes' voice was soft. He patted on my shoulder. "Not now, don't worry.

Why are you smiling?", he added, wrinkling his forehead.

"Nothing", I answered. "Oh, wait!", I added. Holmes raised an eye brow, waiting for me to continue. "I missed you. Quite much." This time there was no doubt, Holmes blushed heavily.

"So, did you? That's... nice to hear", was his only answer.

"I'm sorry I wet your shirt."

"Doesn't matter. You were so desperate, I -"

"But you're very comfortable, Holmes."

Holmes face, already tomato read became even darker.

"Stop fooling me, you mean guy!"

He tried very hard to stay equanimous or to let not show he was deeply moved, but later, when he made some –and this time normal- Earl Grey, I heard him whistling happy.


End file.
